Devil May Care
by Isabella Rain
Summary: After a bet in a gambling hall, Kagome's life has been bet away by her father. In thirteen years, the man says he will be back to claim her. But who is this mysterious man and what does he want with her? Hades/Persephone themes. Inu/Kagome.


**A/N: Hey guys, I decided to take the advice of J Luc Pitard and make my story more true to the characters of Inuyasha. They are still OOC, but I think I've fixed some of the bigger issues. **

**I hope you enjoy!**

**Devil May Care**

_She left her majesty; she loosed the zone_

_Of darkness and put by the rod of dread._

_Standing, she turned her back upon the throne_

_Where, well she knew, the ruler of the Dead,_

_Lord of her body and being, sat like stone;_

_Stared with his ravenous eyes to see her shake_

_The midnight drifting from her loosened hair,_

_The girl once more in all her actions wake,_

_The blush of colour in her cheeks appear_

_Lost with her flowers that day beside the lake._

_-A.D. Hope_

It was a dark night, darker than most nights in Japan. The lights of the gambling hall were the only ones that illuminated the small side street on the outskirts of town. Inside, the room was filled with smoke and the chatter of men who had drank too much. Only one man in the room was sober, and his eyes bored into those of the intoxicated, looking for anyone who had something worthwhile to offer him.

The man was tall, even sitting down at the poker table his long legs stretched out underneath it. He was made up of lean, strong muscles that were hidden under his leather jacket that fell to his hips. His eyes were as dark as the night sky outside and his hair was the colour of ravens, they stood in sharp contrast to his alabaster skin. At first glance, he was handsome, but he gave off the air of someone powerful. An aura that radiated throughout the whole room, making even intoxicated men steer clear of him.

One man though, didn't seem to catch on. That, or he was too drunk to pay attention to the air around him. Stumbling over to the chair opposite the dark man, he plopped his beer down on the poker table, sloshing it all over the green fabric, and then crashed into the seat. The dark eyed man watched the drunken fool turn to him, amusement shining in his eyes as he started to speak.

"Yus, sir, shuld plays me a game o' poker." He slurred, locking eyes with him, challenging him to refuse.

A smirk spread out across his devilishly handsome lips as he looked at the man before him. He had something to offer him, he was sure of it. "Alright, sir. What are we betting with?" He asked, cocking one eyebrow up in amusement.

"Wis money o' curse!" He slammed down a twenty-dollar bill on the table.

"No, sir. I don't play with money." His lips twisted into something sinister as the drunk across from him became confused.

"Wuss do yus pley wif den?" The drunken man's face twisted in confusion, making his already swollen red cheeks seem bigger.

"What do you have to offer me?" He asked, leaning forward on his folded hands.

"I know! Meh daughter, she's quite purdy. Waz will I get if yous loose?" He was confident in his capability to win the hand, but his eyes shone at the prospect of winning something.

"A life for a life. I'll bring you back your wife. " The dark man watched the drunk lean forward, enticed by the bet.

"Yous has a deal." The drunk said. He sat up straighter then, focusing more on the prospect of getting his wife back than losing his daughter.

"Well then, let's shake on it if you're so confident." He held out his long elegant hand, and instantly the drunk clasped it and began shaking it heartily. The dark man's smirk become larger and more sinister as the drunk released his hand and the dealer started shuffling the cards.

Twenty minutes later, the drunk smiled triumphantly as they got ready lay their final hand of cards down. The man with the dark eyes watched him carefully, confidence of his victory seeping through his aura.

"Alright, show 'em," the dealer said.

The drunk was the first one to drop his hand; a pair of aces. He was smiling from ear to ear as he looked across the table into the stranger's dark eyes. "Bef dat!"

With a twitch of his lips, the dark man laid down his cards. A royal flush.

The drunk's jaw almost hit the table as he glanced at the stranger across from him who was now rising.

"Yus warn't serfious abus meh daughter, were ye?" His cheeks paled as he finally sensed the ominous aura around his poker companion.

"Yes sir, I was," he said smoothly, looking down as the drunk rose then fell back into his seat. "I'll be there the day after she turns eighteen to collect her. Don't try to hide her." He shot a glance full of daggers at him. "I will find her, no matter where you take her."

With a flourish, the dark man walked out of the gambling hall, his head held high. People quickly cleared a path for him as he walked through the crowd that had gathered around them. His smile grew as he thought about the girl he was to claim. Because he had known all along that the drunken fool was Hiro Higurashi, and that the only thing he had left to lose was his daughter. Without a second thought, though, he had traded her in for a game of cards and the chance to see his dead wife again.

Hiro sank into the poker chair, the effects of the alcohol he had just consumed starting to wear off as the realization of what he had just given up dawned on him. He had just lost his daughter to a man whose name he didn't even know.

00000

The words on the page of my Mythology homework sat heavily on my chest. There was just something about them that left an uncomfortable feeling within me. As I looked around my room, a feeling of unease encapsulated me. It made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end as I attempted to work on the assignment in front of me.

Looking out the window, there he stood. A shadow in the darkness just under the old willow tree, my own personal Hades. Blood raced through my heart faster, my pulse dancing an unfamiliar beat. The hood that was pulled up on his head shadowed his features until his dark eyes turned up to meet mine. Darkness radiated from his casual stance, only the ring of flowers below his feet bringing colours to the black.

As swift as a hawk, I shoved the curtains closed. Fear had quickly replaced the curiosity I felt. He was getting closer. A week ago he wouldn't cross the road at the end of the property, but now he watched me from the middle of my yard. Quickly, I flipped on every light in the room and sat on my bed. I curled my legs underneath me and clutched my stuffed white dog to my chest.

Gently I stroked the top of his head and feeling my fingers over his button eyes and worn out fabric, most of the fuzz he had when I got him was starting to wear away with time. That dog had been with me through thick and thin, comforting me through my worst nights. I called him my miracle puppy, because that's what he was. He had showed up out of nowhere when I was eight, but personally, I thought my guardian angel had left him on my bed that day.

00000

The large department store in the next town over was still a novelty to me at the tender age of eight. Aisle upon aisle towered over me as I followed my father through them. His large sweaty hand clutched mine uncomfortably and I had to bend my head to look up at him. The bitter smell of dried alcohol wafted from him, making my stomach turn. It was Christmas time and all of the decorations sat proudly on the shelves around me. Trees were set up through the large center aisles adorned in glittering lights and ornaments. My eyes were always as wide as saucers when I saw Christmas decorations. Since my mother passed away, I never saw them anymore as they reminded father too much of her death.

With perfect product placement, a basket of stuffed dogs sat in the middle of two lines of Christmas trees. My feet planted solidly, causing my father to jerk. With extreme tenderness, I reached my hand out and gently stroked the face of one of them. Its button eyes seeming to smile back at me. The pointed dog ears calling for me to pet them.

A sharp jolt pulled at my shoulder as my father tried to drag me away. "Daddy, please can I have a stuffed puppy this year? I've always wanted one and I'm eight now, I promise I can take care of it!" I looked up at him with pleading eyes, my heart wrenching my chest.

"No, Kagome," he said firmly, his eyes dark with the previous night's drink. In the corner of my eye, I could see a tall man browsing through magazines. His eyes turned in our direction, but he didn't seem annoyed by my display. Rather, he seemed angry; his dark eyes bore into the side of my father's face, making him obviously uncomfortable, but my father was not a man to be intimidated by strangers. Another hard tug on my shoulder caused me to whimper in pain as he forcefully pulled me away from the white puppies. Giant tears welled in my eyes as I watched the dogs disappear behind me.

The man at the magazine rack watched us, his hands crumpling the magazine between them. Right before he disappeared out of sight, his eyes turned to me but they seemed gentle and comforting. My childish curiosity made me smile timidly at him, but he and the dogs were replaced with bottles of grog as my father pulled me into the aisle.

My father sent me straight to my room when we arrived home, which was not unusual. I could hear the sound of the can opening before he even had a chance to set his forty pack on the counter. I rushed up the stairs of our dilapidated shrine-keeper's house before he had time to yell at me.

As I opened the door, my bed came into view. On top of the quilt my mother stitched sat a snow white stuffed puppy.

00000

Two week later, the light of a single candle illuminated my bedroom from the top of a chocolate cupcake. I hummed quietly to myself, _Happy Birthday to me. Happy Birthday to me._ "Make a wish, Kagome." I whispered softly. My bruised arm ached as I brought the candle up to my lips and blew the flickering flame out.

I smiled to myself softly. I knew that while I was alone now, my best friend was sure to call me in an hour to apologize again for not being here. Swearing she would make it up to me on the weekend when she could get away from her overbearing parents. My dog took her place though, sitting where he sat on every important event that I found myself alone for. He seemed to smile at me from his perch on my desk. He had been my imaginary friend since I got him, and sometimes I swore his ears twitched when I talked to him.

I rubbed my arm softly and thought about last night. My father had grabbed my arm as I walked past the chair he was passed out on. He was drunk as usual, but there was a wild fear in his eyes. "Kagome, I'm sorry." He had cried. "I'm so sorry." I didn't know why he was apologizing, but I pulled his hand off of my arm and went back to my room while he passed out again. I hadn't seen him get upset like that since Mother had died.

I didn't hate my father. Instead, I ended up taking care of him most of the time. I always made sure that he ate and was covered with a blanket at night. He was a foolish drunk, but he was still my father. Mother's death had ruined him and he had never recovered. He was never abusive to me. Neglectful, yes. Abusive, no.

As sure as I knew my name, I knew that I wasn't alone anymore. He sat in the middle of my bed, his long legs draping over the edge. I looked slowly over my shoulder through the darkness, the full moon illuminating his palid face. In the last two weeks, he has crept closer to me everyday. No longer was he a shadow in my yard, rather he was a shadow in the corner in my eye. Fear wrapped its fingers around my chest as I locked my eyes with his.

I didn't know who he was or why he was here, but I recognized him. "You're the man from the department store," I whispered softly.

His obsidian eyes softened a bit. "I am," his voice was smooth, a gentle wind compared to the harsh gale of the southern drawl.

"Who are you?" I asked. I was trembling from head to toe as his lips lift into a soft smile.

"I am known by many names," he replied, "but you may call me Inuyasha."

"Why are have you been following me?" My hands toyed with the edges of my shirt, twisting them tighter and tighter.

"Kagome." His voice sounded soft but there was an edge to his words. "I'm here to claim you."

The fear was a chokehold now, strangling the words in my throat. "Claim me?" I asked.

"Yes, Kagome." He sat up straighter then and moved closer to me. I could see his face clearer now. His eyes were as hard as steel even though his hands were relaxed. Needing to look at anything but him, I glanced at my Mythology book laying disregarded on my desk.

The fear in my chest squeezed its fingers tighter as all my weeks of studying finally clicked in my head. "You're the God of Death, aren't you?"

He didn't answer me, but I knew the truth even without his conformation. "Why are you claiming me? Am I dead or dying? I feel fine, really. There must be a mistake!" I was becoming hysteric when I turned to look at him again. I hoped that maybe he would change him mind if he saw how scared I was.

"A month after your mother died, I made a bet with your father over a game of poker. Your mother's life was my wager," he said.

I knew it was true before it even had a chance to sink in. I was five when she had passed away from cancer, and I remembered clearly my father's descent into the bottle after her funeral. "Why me?" I asked. Anger was beginning to replace the fear inside of me. I wasn't a bargaining chip to be won.

He didn't answer. Instead, he smiled at me as he saw the anger rise inside of me. "Why me!" I asked again, angrier this time.

"You're to be my bride," he said. There was no room for argument. "I chose you years ago to stand beside me because of your heritage. Now that you an adult, it is time to go."

"What heritage?" My curiosity was peeked.

"You're a miko. Your family comes from a long line of shrine priests and priestesses. You are the first one in five centuries that has presented with the spiritual abilities that come with the position." He eyed me carefully, his words matter of fact with no room for argument.

Silence rang through the room. In my hysteria, I began to laugh. This all had to be a joke. There was a Death God on my bed telling me I was to be his bride, and on top of it I was a miko. He didn't seem amused though.

"Time is running short. We have to go," his words were stern and harsh as they echoed through my room. I knew in that moment that he was serious. Standing up, he towered over me and held out his hand.

"What if I don't want to come with you?" I stared up at him. My fear returned like a freight train as his dark eyes looked into mine. I desperately wanted to fight him, but for some reason I couldn't muster up the will to.

"I'm afraid you don't have a choice, Kagome," he said, but he held his hand out to me. Giving me the illusion of choice.

"Can I at least say goodbye to my friends and my father?" The realization that I might never see them again caused moisture to rise in my eyes. As much as I disliked my father's behavior, I knew that I still loved him because he was my Dad.

"No," he said. He didn't sound frustrated though.

"Please? Just one person?" I sounded desperate, but I had to try.

"No, Kagome," he replied again. "We have to go now."

He stepped toward me then, his raven hair covering his face as he leaned down to scoop me out of chair. In the last moment before he pulled me into his arms, I grabbed my puppy. I would have at least one friend with me if I was forced to leave.

Before I could draw another breath, we were gone.

00000

A key turned in the lock of the front door. Hiro Higurashi, sober for the first time since his wife died, came into his house. In his hands were a bouquet of roses and a small gift bag with an envelope sticking out of it.

"Kagome?" He called up the stairs. "I'm home, hun. Why don't you come downstairs?"

When she didn't respond, fear propelled him up the stairs. "Kagome? Kagome!" He called frantically as he rushed up the rickety stairs to her room. Hiro pulled the door to her bedroom open.

The rose petals scattered across the floor as he dropped the bouquet, a heartbreaking scream piercing the night.

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